


The Love Talker

by Punkpoemprose



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Consensual Sex, Curses, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dubcon Kissing, F/M, Gancanagh AU, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Non-Graphic Violence, Self-Doubt, Self-Reflection, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:33:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26429434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punkpoemprose/pseuds/Punkpoemprose
Summary: Anna is an heiress living in the small village she was raised in while her sister runs their family business in a crowded city hundreds of miles away. When Anna realizes that her fiance is not the man she thought he was, she escapes into the woods surrounding her home, running for her life. She places all her hope on getting to the next town over before her fiance can find her, but fails to realize the tales she’d been told as a child about the dark creatures who lived in the woods, were not simply tales. She struggles to recall the tales that may save her life, and comes face to face with one of the most dangerous creatures of legend. The gancanagh.Gancanagh (/ɡænˈkænə/) (from Irish gean cánach, meaning “love talker”): a male solitary fae whose touch is addictive to humans due to a contact poison/drug secreted through their skin. Humans touched by these fae often lose their minds and die from withdrawal after a single touch if the faerie does not continue to provide them with their affections.This is dark fic. Read the tags. If you have any uncertainty about whether or not any of your triggers are included, please don't hesitate to message me. I'm happy to let you know what's going to happen/ answer questions.
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Was this supposed to be a oneshot for KA Week where I was writing monster AUs? Yes. Did I do that? No. Of course I didn’t. I’m me. So here’s what you need to know if you don’t have the background knowledge: Gancanagh (Ghan-canna) are male fae from Irish legend who can addict humans (usually human women) to them with a single skin to skin touch. Addicted humans, once out of the presence of these fae, lose their minds and can kill themselves. This fic is going to be quite dark. It’s highly self indulgent because I LOVE this stuff. Blame Melissa Marr.

She ran. Her slippers were lost among the weeds as she picked up speed, her hair flowing loose around her like a wild thing. Her mother would have been so ashamed. Her sister would be if she were still around, but she didn’t fear their judgement. There was no sense in fearing the dead and the gone when there was something much more real, something more solid, to fear. Someone was trying to kill her.

It hadn’t been a whim when she’d chosen to read her fiancé’s journal. It had been a nagging voice in the back of her head that told her that even though everything was perfect, there was something he wasn’t telling her. Of course, she’d thought that it was going to be something not so terrifying, like that he had a gambling habit or some sort of secret hobby he didn’t want her to know about.

She hadn’t expected to see a list of women, deceased women, numbered down the page, the numbers corresponded to a ledger, each woman tied to two separate amounts, a dowry and an inheritance. Despite her seemingly miraculous ability to misjudge the intentions of people in her life she wasn’t stupid. When she saw her name and two blank spaces for what she was going to be worth wed and dead she’d taken off as fast as she could.

She couldn’t bring the book to the lawman in town, not when she knew that he was known to frequently share a pint with Hans, her evidently serial murdering fiancé. Either he’d brush her off, or he’d be in on it, and she was terrified about what that meant for her in any case. So she’d taken off into the woods with the book and little else. He’d be after her soon, she was certain of that much. She didn’t have much of a plan, but the woods were safer than the village and if she was lucky enough to not be eaten by wolves as she crossed the way, she might be able to make it to the closest town within a few days.

She wished she would have had the thought to bring her horse. She wished that she had worn her boots, her slippers already lost to her, and adrenaline carrying her past them. She wished that she had brought something to eat. The journey to the closest town was two days on foot, and she simply had to hope that he wouldn’t be bright enough to set out on horse to get there first and tell the sheriff there that she’d lost her mind.

Tears streaked down her face, her chest ached, and her sides were cramping. She’d already been running for a fair distance, but it didn’t feel safe to stop yet. She was strong, she’d always been, but this taxed her more than anything she’d ever attempted before. She wished that she’d never met Hans at all while she was making impossible wishes.

When she started to cough, her overexertion catching up with her in a way that made her guts wretch, she stopped. She had no idea where she was, but she knew that if she didn’t know where she was, Hans certainly wouldn’t. She’d grown up on the edges of the forest. Her parents had been well off and her nannies had kept her out of its clutches for most of her early life, but she had spent far more time in it than Hans had. She knew it’s landscape for the most part, and she knew its stories.

Hans had come to the village when Elsa was preparing to leave for the city. Someone had to take care of the family trading company, and with Mama and Papa gone, unable to make the week long trip back and forth between their quiet village and the port city where their empire had been built, Elsa had decided it best to move there herself. Anna was supposed to join her after not too long, but when Hans had come to town, all charming and debonair, she’d thought that for the first time in forever she’d not feel so isolated and alone.

Her vision streaked a bit as she tried to breathe in and out. Hyperventilating and passing out would do her no favors here. She hadn’t run from a murderer just to die in the woods.

“What are you running from in such a rush?”

A chill ran up her spine as Anna turned towards the voice. It wasn’t familiar, which was far more of a comfort than it ought to be, but her heart still was in her throat as she saw that she wasn’t alone.

Sitting on a stump just a bit behind her was a man smoking a pipe. His face was obscured by the brim of his hat and by the distance between them. His voice was level and calm, a bit curious, but not demanding. She clutched the book in her hands.

“Who says I’m running from something?” she asked I return, panting as she did so, “I could be running towards something.”

He nodded and she knew that although she couldn’t get a good look at him from where she was standing, he was certainly watching her. The smoke from his pipe trailed off in the opposite direction, carried by the lightest of breezes the likewise shook the leaves from the autumn trees. It served to bring her attention to him even more so, with everything moving away from him, he became the focus of her vision.

He chuckled. It was a rich warm sound, cheerful, liked she’d pleased him with her response.

“Well then, what are you running towards?”

She huffed out a breath, her lungs finally seeming to be able to take air in and out somewhat normally.

“Safety,” she answered honestly.

Her mother had told her to never talk to strangers, but there was something about the wat he was sitting, relaxed, low, like he wasn’t going anywhere. It was comforting, like his chuckle, like his voice.

He hummed in return, as if he’d somehow suspected as much.

“Well before you run to safety, maybe share why you’re running?”

He sat up and set down his pipe on the stump next to him. She hadn’t noticed that it had stopped smoking, which seemed odd, but when he looked up, she stopped thinking about it so much.

He was handsome. Not in the sort of devilish, posh way that Hans was, but in the strong, natural way that the forest made men. He looked like the sort of man who might busy himself with chopping wood or tending to horses when he wasn’t sitting on a stump.

She approached him, he had broad shoulders, he wore a flannel frock coat which accentuated this and as she drew closer, she saw that under the brim of his hat he had a mess of blonde hair and deep brown eyes.

As she approached, he stood and reached his hand out to her, and she reached out in kind.

He frowned then, and he pulled his hand away quickly.

“You’re much too trusting.”

Anna blinked, confused, but then looked down at her feet. There were mushrooms at her toes, a ring of them around the stump. She knew the stories of the woods, the rules to follow that she’d been told in her childhood tales, and so she took a step back, confused and a bit frightened.

He gave her a wry smile when she looked back up at him, but his eyes showed something like disappointment. It didn’t make any sense. He’d almost had her, and then he’d pulled away.

She choked down her horror and realized that he was giving her an expectant look.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

He nodded and sat back on his stump, regarding her from a safe distance. She knew that the space was for her benefit, not his. She had no iron, no salt, no silver on her person. She couldn’t hurt him, but if he was fae, which all signs pointed to, he could hurt her in hundreds of ways without putting much effort in.

“So trusting girl, why are you running to safety?”

She felt a lump form in her throat as she thought about her answer. Displeasing him probably wasn’t a good idea. He’d shown restraint, but she wasn’t sure if she could run fast enough that he couldn’t do anything to hurt her. She had the oddest sense that he wouldn’t try to at any rate, but still, she knew it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Would telling you be a wise decision?” she asked in return, her mind rushing through everything she knew about faeries. They were tricky, powerful creatures. They couldn’t tell a lie, but they would tell you the truth in deceitful ways. Faeries double talked and stole children, they tortured men and women for the momentary joy it gave them in their endless lives, they were not to be trusted.

He grinned again, looking pleased. “Trusting but not entirely foolish then. I won’t insult you. Yes, telling me would be wise because I mean you no harm.”

Maybe it was the sudden softness of his expression, or the way he said it so meaningfully, but she believed him. She was trusting, too trusting. He might still kill her, so she asked him for clarification.

“You mean me no harm, or you will do no harm to me? You can do something to harm someone without meaning to.”

The wind shifted. There was a sweetness on the breeze, like spiced wine and tobacco. It was intoxicating. It was him.

“I will do you no harm. You have my word…” he paused, looking at her expectantly. He was asking for her name.

She shook her head. Names had power. She remembered that much at least for certain. The rest of the rules were somewhat foggy with age, but the most important ones were there. Faeries can’t lie, but they’re tricky. If you step into a faerie ring you can become trapped there if the faerie it belonged to caught you. Eating faerie food binds you to them. Names give power both ways, so never give yours away.

She thought for a moment about what he could call her. She’d never had a nickname or something that wasn’t a direct attachment to her. Hans had called her many names, “pet”, “lamb”, “darling”, but they all left a bad taste in her mouth now. She settled on the first name she could come up with.

“You may call me Kjekk.”

He laughed, “Handsome?”

It was her horse’s name. It was Norwegian, her father’s native language. She spoke some, but not as much as she would have liked. Elsa was the better speaker.

His laugh was warm, and she felt the strange desire, despite all logic, to step back up to the edge of the ring. He was drawing her in, but she stood her ground.

“Du snakker norsk?” It was a simple question, if he could answer it at all it meant that he was answering affirmatively.

He grinned, “Some. You are a handsome woman.”

Her cheeks flushed despite her best intentions. He was being very plain spoken for what she had been told to expect, and she secretly appreciated it.

“I won’t hurt you Kjekk,” he continued, “And I would like it if you told me why you’re running. You don’t have to tell me, but I’m interested to know.”

She nodded at that. It was all she needed to know at the moment really, she just had one question left before she told him.

“May I have your name?”

“You’re trickier than I gave you credit for Kjekk,” he said, picking up his pipe which was smoking once more, but only lightly, as if it were still deciding whether or not it wanted to be used. “You may call me Gancanagh. I won’t give you my name, but you may call me that which I am.”

“Gancanagh,” she breathed. It made a terrifying amount of sense, “love talker.”

It wasn’t Norwegian. It was Irish. She’d had an Irish nanny once when she was eleven, and she’d told her the tales of the woods that hailed from her native home and land. Gancanagh were seducers. They brought humans, particularly women, into their rings and kept them there, spoke sweet words to them, and did all sorts of things her nanny had refused to explain until they tired of them. It seemed on the surface like something almost harmless for a faerie to do given the other things their various types were known for, but the sinister aspect was there, hidden. Gancanaghs are addictive to humans. For a person to touch a Gancanagh and go too long without their touch again would drive them mad, would drive them to suicide.

She stumbled back and fell unceremoniously on the ground; she’d almost touched him. She still wanted to.

He hadn’t touched her though. Why she couldn’t imagine. Maybe he had his current fill of mortal women to torture sweetly, or maybe she wasn’t the sort of woman he wanted. She wasn’t sure, maybe he had simply allowed her to be untouched on a whim.

“I won’t hurt you Kjekk,” he repeated, “I’m impressed you understand. Now that I’ve been honest with you, will you be honest with me?”

She shook her head and scrambled to stand back up. Her heart was racing and her head was a mess of conflicting interests. She wanted to run and she wanted to stay. He promised not to hurt her, but what was his definition of hurt? Was her killing herself in the future as a consequence of his whims something he counted as him harming her? Should she tell him that she’d already left worse than that behind?

“My fiancé is planning to murder me.”

The words escaped her mouth frantically. It wasn’t because of anything he’d done. He was attractive to her, on the surface trustworthy, but he held no power over her. She gave him the information nervously, but of her own free will.

His face went dark, and he set the pipe down once more. The wind shifted again and a cold breeze hit her back as leaves dropped from the trees more rapidly than before.

“The book you’re holding, is that the proof? May I see it?”

She clutched it tightly.

“Will you return it to me?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Will you return it to me promptly Gancanagh… and I mean once you’ve seen why I’m carrying it… and will you take it and return it without touching me?”

He nodded, the darkness not leaving his expression. He was angry, not at her though, of that much she was certain. In his dark eyes there was still something gentle when he looked upon her. It wasn’t pity, it was understanding.

“I swear it.”

Cautiously, step by step, she approached the circle and stuck only the corner of the book into the circle. He took it from her slowly, to his credit, and did not reach out to touch her. He played no tricks, but instead began to flip through and observe what Anna had already seen for herself.

Anna realized a bit too late what she’d done when he said her name.

“Anna Arendelle,” he looked from the book and up to her, “That name suits you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings as chapter 1 plus one general warning: don’t smoke, kay? It’s bad for you. This is a dark fic. There’s light spots, it’s going to be mostly fluffy and good towards the ends, but the AU that this is requires a bit of darkness. Apologies!

She felt waves of terror roll down her spine. She’d been foolish, outright stupid, too trusting altogether. She’d known the rules and yet she’d misstepped egregiously.

His expression calmed when he looked upon her. What had been fire and brimstone cooled to something closer to concern. He must have noted her terror, it was written all over her face.

“I’m not usually the sort of person who brings people places,” he said, for the first time since she’d stumbled across him he seemed uncertain of himself, “but there’s a cabin up the way. I ask that you stay there tonight Anna. It’s a request. I won’t command you.”

She let out a breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding. There was no compulsion to follow his command. He spoke the truth. He wouldn’t hurt her, he wasn’t forcing her. That alone made her want to agree.

“Why?”

He frowned slightly, “Because there’s something I need to do. It’ll be dark and cold soon, and I would have you safe.”

He extended the book to her and she cautiously took it back. He could order her to allow him to touch her, so she trusted that he wasn’t going to touch her. At least she mostly trusted him.

“I’ll do as you ask if you’ll do something for me in return,” she said, despite knowing how foolish it was to bargain when he held all the cards.

He nodded, looking a bit serious, but not displeased or even surprised by her decision to bargain with him.

“Give me your name, your real name, and I’ll do anything you ask.”

He smiled then, looking a bit rueful, “If you do as I ask I’ll give you my name when I return Anna. Is that enough for you handsome woman?”

She noted the teasing tone the end of his question had and it gave her strange comfort. She’d just met the fae, the Gancanagh. He’d called her too trusting, and he’d been right, because here she was, already nodding in agreement.

She jumped when a reindeer appeared at her side. She hadn’t been sure of what to expect, but it hadn’t been that.

“Sven will take you there,” he said, his voice gentle, a smile on his lips as she looked between him and the beast, “You can ride on his back or walk at his side, whichever you prefer.”

Anna nodded again. Things couldn’t really get much stranger than they already were, but she’d always liked animals and the creature, despite clearly arriving at the behest of the fae, seemed fairly docile and was seemingly content to go between sniffing her and looking at the man. The deer grunted at him.

He laughed in response. “Yes, Sven I was getting to that.”

He looked at her again and began to remove his frock coat. She felt her cheeks warm as he did so. It was just his outermost layer, but it gave her a much better look at just how broad he was without it. She thought, and blamed it on faerie magic, that his chest and arms looked like a comfortable place to be. Would it be so bad to die a pleasurable death? She knew the withdrawal humans faced after a gancanagh left them was maddening, but for a moment, the exhaustion wiping over her as the last of her adrenaline finally ran its course, she thought it might just be worth it.

He offered the coat to her, holding it out in the same way he had the book, just offering her the item and not moving to touch her as she reached out for it in return.

“It’s colder up the mountain, where Sven’s taking you. When you get there start a fire and take care of yourself. I’ll be along.”

It was warm. She took it from him and it was warm. He clearly ran much hotter than her, and the idea of embracing him, as mad as it was, came to her again as she placed the fabric over her shoulders. It would kill her, but he already could kill her if he wanted to, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to keep running, keep fighting anymore. She was tired.

His reindeer, Sven, nudged at her again and she looked to the animal. He was lowering himself slightly to allow her on his back. She gave him an appreciative pat, he’d evidently read her mind and offered her a better solution.

“Thank you,” she said turning back to the fae, but he was already gone.

**** **🙚⚘🙘**

The reindeer was more like a dog than a creature of the forest. He had personality, he was cuddly, and she’d almost been tempted to let him into the cabin with her instead of leaving him in the small stable outside. It had been colder further up the mountain as the gancanagh had told her it would be. Faeries didn’t lie.

She started the fire in the stone fireplace with some kindling she’d found and a tinderbox. She’d gotten quite good at doing things for herself since her sister left and she’d stopped hiring new housekeepers. Cooking was still something she was getting the hang of, but she refused to look for anything to eat in the cabin anyway. She may have already given up her name, but despite the grumbling in her stomach she’d decided not to break any more rules that could get her killed or turned into a faerie’s plaything. Not that she’d be completely against the latter.

She added a loaf of bread with butter and an apple to the list of impossible wishes she’d been working on earlier, and then thinking better of it, added a bottle of wine because she deserved it. She also thought that deserved to be in a better situation and then thought better of that too because as per the usual her own clumsiness, her trusting nature, had lead to her downfall. She couldn’t entirely fault herself for it, being kind and trusting had also brought her many years of happiness in her youth, and it had earned her close relationships with many of the family’s staff over the years. Had she not been so sheltered after the death of her parents she imagined that perhaps it would have also earned her someone who would have actually loved her, instead of loving her money.

She warmed her hands in front of the fire, tucking her cold bare feet below her to warm as well. She’d been very lucky not to end up frostbitten, and she suspected that had she not had the gancanagh’s coat she may have been at much greater risk for the cold lingering in her bones. She shrugged it off now that the fire radiated enough heat to keep her warm. It was soft under her fingers, warm, and it still smelled of pipe tobacco and spice. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings. This is a dark fic. There’s light spots, it’s going to be mostly fluffy and good towards the ends, but the AU that this is requires a bit of darkness. Apologies!

“Looking for something?”

A pale, red headed man looked at him. He was scowling, as if the interruption was more of a bother to him than the fact that he’d been caught.

Kristoff grinned in return, feeling a bit manic. His head swam with excitement and thrill and fear about allowing himself to do what he’d been made for. He hadn’t done this sort of thing in a very long while. He’d enjoyed it for a time, part of the nature he’d been imbued with, but he hadn’t been born wicked and despite loving many other “creatures” of the forest, some of whom he called his family, he’d never really been like them. He had regrets, but it didn’t mean he had any regrets about what he was about to do.

He thought of Anna and calmed himself somewhat, he liked her. He felt bad for tricking her despite not knowing he was doing so at the time. He hadn’t known what proof she had in her book, he hadn’t even really meant to run into her in the first place. She’d just looked so defeated and despite being solitary by nature, he’d been curious enough to appear to her. She was beautiful in a way he’d never seen, like a wild rose manifested as a woman, and that she’d been so quick and commanding and so knowledgeable about the rules of a world she wasn’t part of? She’d had him smitten out the gate, and it made him feel more like a man than he had in a very long time.

“Who are you?” the man asked, puffing his chest out like a challenged cockerel. He didn’t look frightened at all, and that made it even more amusing to Kristoff. This man was clearly used to taking what he wanted and getting away with it.

“You don’t need to trouble yourself with that,” Kristoff responded, “But I know who you are, and I know what you’ve been doing.”

He looked scared then, and Kristoff took some pleasure from that. The man deserved to be afraid after the fear he’d caused the women contained in Anna’s book of evidence and for fear he’d caused Anna herself. He deserved everything Kristoff was about to give him.

“You don’t know anything,” the man spat, “and if you did you don’t have any proof.”

Kristoff laughed, “I don’t need proof for what I’m about to do to you.”

He really looked scared then, and while Kristoff didn’t relish the way he was about to go about things, he was pleased to know that in a few short days the man wouldn’t be hurting anyone else ever again.

“Who are you?” the man asked again, and this time as Kristoff moved to strike him, he answered him.

“A monster, less of one than you are… but monster enough.”

His fist met the man’s cheek, and it was enough. Just one touch was enough.

The man’s manner changed instantly, and Kristoff, grinning, was gone in a blink.

**** **🙚⚘🙘**

She was asleep when he came in early the next morning. She was on the floor, on his coat. He wanted to lift her up, to bring her to the bed in the cabin’s loft. Not because of what he’d like to do with her there, though that certainly was on his mind, but more so because he was certain it would be at least a bit more comfortable in the bed for her than it would be on the floor. He wouldn’t take the chance though that he might touch her.

The first beams of light wouldn’t come through the window for some hours still, but he was pleased enough that she had come to the place and stayed at all to push his luck by waking her and bidding her to sleep in the bed. He was going to press his luck once she awoke as it was and ask her to stay a few days, he didn’t want to invite the possibility that she would leave earlier than she would if he allowed her to sleep. He wanted nothing from her beyond the time in his protection for his work to run its course. He’d done plenty wrong in his life, and while he wasn’t intending to erase that by caring for Anna he was enjoying it in ways he couldn’t begin to describe.

He sighed and walked over to a trunk against the wall. The contents were long since unused but graciously not moth eaten. He plucked a blanket out from its interior and draped it carefully over her sleeping form. The fire was mostly hot coals and sputtering sparks now, and she’d soon be chilled if he didn’t do something about it. It took a great deal lower temperature for him to feel cold than it would for her, so he left her on his coat and walked out the door to the stable which he knew contained a bedded down Sven and some firewood.

The air was cool and crisp and the path was lit by moon and starlight. The trees around the small clearing were providing a soft song of fluttering leaves and creaking branches as he walked, and it was comforting to him that though the breeze was cold, Anna was safe and warm indoors. She wasn’t his, despite him having her name and opportunities aplenty to make it so, but he thought of her as his to watch over now. Afterall he’d done for her what she could not, or at least what she could not without fear of being arrested or worse.

When she returned to town, at least hopefully when she returned to town, Hans Westergaard would be dead and she’d be safe to live her life safely and sanely. He wanted that for her. He wanted to do something good for her because just his short interaction with her, just seeing her sleeping on the floor with his coat, was worth all the work he’d put in to help her.

When he walked into the stable his nose was filled with the scent of sweet hay, and he was immediately all but tackled by the reindeer that should have been asleep inside. Sven was a somewhat peculiar addition to his story. The creature had simply taken a liking to him, he couldn’t thrall animals like he could humans. He couldn’t addict the creatures of the forest to him with just a touch, but since the creature had been just a calf, he’d been happy to follow Kristoff about. He’d been younger then too, and he couldn’t deny that even now, being practically run over by the beast, he was happy for the companionship.

“Hey buddy,” he said, reaching up to pet the creature on the head, “Thank you for taking care of her. She’s in a bad way and you’re better at helping with that than I am.”

The creature snorted in return and Kristoff smiled. He might not be able to control animals, but he could understand them, though he never understood anything or anyone quite so well as he did Sven. They were something like kindred spirits, not really fitting in where they should, not entirely content to be alone, but not thrilled by the idea of being with others either.

He walked around the creature who, satisfied with the return of his friend, bedded himself back down in the straw. He started picking up firewood that he’d cut but hadn’t touched in a very long time. He just didn’t get cold all that often, but he knew that Anna would catch a chill up this far in the mountains, even with the cabin walls breaking the wind.

He knew that he was playing with fire up here. She might not stay in the morning. Or she might, he was hoping she might, but he wasn’t going to make her do so. At any rate he didn’t plan on staying with her. That was just too much temptation.

“What am I going to do Sven?” he asked, not expecting an answer, and walking out with the wood before he could get one. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings. This is a dark fic. There’s light spots, it’s going to be mostly fluffy and good towards the ends, but the AU that this is requires a bit of darkness. Apologies! Also, this is unedited. Of course. I am me. So sorry for any messiness.

She’d awoken draped with a blanket. A note was on the floor at her side, hastily written in rough script.

_Anna,_

_You’re safe here. I’ll return this evening to make good on our agreement. There is food here, you may have some. Sven is in the stable, you may spend time with him if you like._

She huffed. It was unsigned. He still had more power over her than she had over him, and as such she thought it was perhaps unwise to bolt off and leave the place. He’d proven kind thus far, if not a bit tricky, but she didn’t know that directly disobeying him was a good plan for her wellbeing. She already had one man trying to kill her, she thought that it would be by and far her worst decision of all time to make it two.

She reread the note, lifting it off the floor to see that below it were her somewhat dirty, but in tact slippers. That at least was clear cut enough to be something she could accept openly, and she was grateful for their return.

As for the note, she wasn’t sure if faeries could lie in writing. She knew that they couldn’t speak lies, but she wasn’t about to take the chance on the food. Maybe the name curse was something she could escape, but eating faerie food was surely as poor of a plan today as it was yesterday. She thought that maybe once she’d heard something about it being dangerous to not accept fae hospitality, but the laws were a mass of contradictions and it was better to go with what she knew for sure, and he had seemed amused before by her knowledge of the rules, so perhaps that would be enough to save her here as well.

If not, better to have the gancanagh against her armed with a single weapon than have herself totally trapped by two. Maybe she could change her name?

She did take the letter up on it’s second offer and set out to see the reindeer. She was somewhat certain that it, at least, had no intentions of hurting her. The creature had been very gentle with her the day before, its fur keeping her warm as she rode on its back on their ascent up the mountain.

After the visit she intended to do some cleaning of the small cabin he’d taken her to. She wasn’t sure if that would be seen as a kindness or a criticism, but again the fae had seemed amenable enough to her conversation, so if she explained that it was an act completed out of appreciation, he might just be pleased with her. She wasn’t sure if he’d be pleased enough to let her go, but she would take what she could get.

**** **🙚⚘🙘**

He’d stayed out as long as he possibly could before knowing that she would be asleep when he returned. It had been intentional. He’d just been a short ways off, watching animals, smoking his pipe, doing what he fancied to keep himself away from her. She was too much of a temptation to stay around for any period of time, especially when she was awake. He wasn’t a beast. He should be by all accounts, but he wasn’t. She’d have to show some interest in him before he’d do anything to her, and she couldn’t show interest when she was asleep.

He couldn’t lie to her. He’d promised to come back in the evening. He just hoped that it would be as simple as arriving, asking her to stay in the cabin until her fiancé was dead, giving her his name and then taking off again. Nothing had ever really been “easy” for him though, not in a very long time.

Anna didn’t seem to want to make things easier for him either. When he walked into the cabin she was on his floor on her knees scrubbing at the boards with a rag and some water. He hadn’t really been sure of what to expect when he walked through the door but that hadn’t been it. He’d seen her home when he’d left town, it was much larger than the others in the village, and so he had assumed that she had all her housework done by some sort of serving staff. She had a proud air about her, but not in a pretentious way. He realized now that such a manner came from her belief in herself and in her abilities, which he found attractive, about as attractive as he found her on her hands and knees.

He cleared his throat, and scared her unintentionally. He watched her jump, knocking the bucket of water she’d been using splash across his floor as she did so.

When she looked at him and looked at the pail she looked horrified. He realized, with no small amount of disappointment, that she was still afraid of him. He’d really given her no reason not to be, and while it hurt to see her fear, he thought that perhaps it was for the best.

If she was afraid of him she’d stay away. If she kept herself at a distance he couldn’t touch her.

This thought conflicted with his actions. She was afraid and water was soaking into her thin dress, and he couldn’t help but to reach out to right the pail.

She all but skittered across the floor to get away from him, and he took three steps back at her reaction.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I-”

He interrupted her with his own apology, “Anna I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” 

He was shocked when she laughed. It was a bit nervous and a bit relieved at the same time. He looked at her expression and relaxed somewhat. She looked less terrified and more tired. He’d forgotten how late it was, he’d forgotten that she’d stayed up waiting for him.

He smiled in return and took a slow step back towards the bucket, putting his hands in front of him cautiously, making sure she could see them as he approached the mess. He righted the bucket as she moved back towards him with the rag in hand to begin mopping up the water.

“It’s okay,” she said, “You didn’t mean…”

He nodded, “You don’t have to clean that up it’s…”

She shook her head, “No, I should have been more careful…”

He sighed, “No. I don’t want you to have to be careful here.”

It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say to her, because while it was true, he didn’t want her to be afraid in a place he’d promised her she’d be safe, he did want her to be careful with him. He wouldn’t try to touch her. He knew what he was, and while it certainly had come in handy very, very recently, he’d spent more years than he’d like to admit doing his best to not give in to that nature, but he still didn’t trust himself totally. He also couldn’t say “you don’t have to be careful here” because that would be a lie, because he might still screw up phenomenally, especially if she even slightly wanted him to get close to her.

**** **🙚⚘🙘**

Anna was scared, but not so much as she knew she should be. He looked as nervous as she felt, which was strange as in all the fae in the stories she’d been told, especially the tales about gancanagh, they had been so self-assured. She did appreciate that he was keeping his distance for the most part, and she got the distinct impression that he didn’t want to touch her.

“You’re not going to touch me, are you?”

He looked at her like she had said something that he wasn’t sure how to answer. She figured that it was a fairly simple question, but then again nothing about their predicament was simple or easy. She’d been running from a man who intended to kill her, and straight into the presence of another who could do the same. The fact that he hadn’t entirely trapped her yet spoke to something reassuring though. He could have had her in any way he wanted, but he hadn’t. She wasn’t sure why, and she was secretly somewhat offended. She figured that she was at least pretty enough to be tempting, but it wasn’t something she was going to dwell on.

He sighed and she awaited his response anxiously, sopping cloth in hand, dripping on the floor once more and on the edge of her skirt.

“I can’t promise you I won’t touch you Anna.”

His words were terrifying but expected. If she hadn’t been able to go against her trusting nature, she could hardly expect him to go against his nature so entirely either.

“I can promise,” he added, her attention still entirely focused upon him, “that I won’t touch you skin to skin intentionally without your consent.”

She could trust him at his word, especially when he’d spent the time to so carefully word it. The loopholes was obvious. He might touch her in ways that wouldn’t addict her purposefully, and he might accidentally touch her in a way that would addict her to him. That was fair enough. The final bit though was the most concerning, because there was a part of her that still liked the idea of giving him the go ahead.

He was attractive and kind enough to be appealing to her without any fae addiction magic. She wondered if it was because of what he was, or if it was because of who he was. The difference wouldn’t mean much to most, but it did to her.

“Will you fulfill your other promise?” she asked, feeling bold.

He smiled then, “My name?”

“Yes, please.”

“Kristoff.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings and mentions of suicide. This will never be shown graphically if anyone is worried. I'm not going to do that.   
> Remember when I thought this was going to be a oneshot? This is a shorter chapter, longer ones to come, but this just seemed to have a natural staring and ending point.

She had power over him now, and more promises than he should have allowed, but he trusted the small woman half soaked in mop water who sat on his floor. He had never been able to trust a person before. He trusted creatures of the wood, he trusted Sven, but to trust Anna, that was new territory.

“I ask that you keep that name to yourself,” he said, though he already knew that she would. She wouldn’t wrong him, he could see it in her eyes now that she had come to the realization that he would do the same for her.

“I’d also ask you to stay here for a few days while… things run their course.”

She didn’t need the details. He wasn’t sure if she could handle them. He wasn’t sure if he’d even done something that she would have wanted. He realized now that he hadn’t exactly asked her if she wanted her fiancé addicted and killed, he’d only been furious enough after learning about her predicament to take it upon himself. Maybe she hadn’t wanted it handled that way. There was a lot of complications he hadn’t thought about when he’d acted.

“While my… while he kills himself, you mean?”

He detected no anger in her tone, but she sounded small. She knew what he was capable of and she wasn’t sugar coating things. He could appreciate that, though it did upset him that she stood up and stepped away from him after she’d said it. 

**** **🙚⚘🙘**

Kristoff. His name was Kristoff. And he’d essentially murdered her murderous fiancé. Did that make him better? She thought so.

She thought a lot of things that she knew may perhaps be a bit mad, but she’d rather be crazy than dead. She’d suspected that when he’d sent her off and left on an “errand” he’d made up his mind to do what he’d done. She should have stopped him, but she hadn’t wanted to.

She was glad that he was dead. Or at least she was glad that he was going to be dead. He wouldn’t have done her any kindness given he was planning to have her killed, by his hand or otherwise, after their wedding.

“Yes.”

He wasn’t lying to her. He couldn’t. He could have artfully dodged the question, but he didn’t, and she was beginning to think that he was very bad at being a monster, the killing notwithstanding.

“You’re bad at being fae you know,” she said, unable to stop herself, “you could have had me a million times over by now, you gave me your name, and you told me the truth every time I asked you something, even when you could have avoided it.”

“You’re bad at being a captivated maiden,” he replied. It was partially a lie, though he didn’t know it, which was why he was able to say it. She wouldn’t have fought nearly so hard against his charms if it weren’t for the fact that he’d let her fight. There were plenty of thoughts in her head that were anything but cautious. He’d even said it himself, she was too trusting.

“Seems like we’re both bad at being what we’re supposed to be.”

He took a step towards her and this time she didn’t step away. He reached his hand out to her and she didn’t flinch. She lifted her head to get a better look at him as he filled her space. His eyes were like chocolate, she loved chocolate.

When he touched her arm, the place covered by her sleeve, but just barely so, she didn’t take any pleasure in it, but stood strong. He’d as good as killed one person that day in the same manner, but Anna was unintimidated. He’d saved her by it, he’d given her his word and asked for little in return.

“I’ll stay.”

“Thank you Kjekk.”

She laughed. She was crazy, and bad at being what the situation dictated she be in either sense. She wasn’t being safe, and she wasn’t giving in.

It helped that he was showing her he was more man than monster.

 **** **🙚⚘🙘**

He’d left after that. In the moment his touch hadn’t felt like anything more than a proof of her trust for him, but now thinking about Kristoff from the bed in the loft she wondered if it had meant more than that for him. Casual touch wasn’t something she’d been used to before Hans, and now he was soon to be dead. She wondered if Kristoff had any contact with anyone outside addicting mortals. What had made her special? Why hadn’t he addicted her. She’d thought, albeit a bit foolishly, that maybe she just wasn’t his type, but there was more to it than that. The way he’d looked at her when he’d touched her. There was something in his eyes that was incredibly human. She wondered what he might do if she touched him back next time.

She huffed out a breath and tossed in the bed. Her stomach was growling. She still wasn’t going to eat anything in the cabin. She trusted Kristoff in a way, but she still knew what he was and she couldn’t deny the years and years of stories that told her she shouldn’t eat food in the realm of a fae.

She’d noticed the mushrooms when she’d visited Sven in the stables earlier in the day, before she’d cleaned the cabin, before Kristoff had returned and told her his name. Before she’d had her suspicions about what he was doing to Hans confirmed, she had found that all along the perimeter of the clearing that the cabin and stable sat in there were mushrooms growing. She was in what was essentially a massive faerie ring. She’d expected as much of course, but now with the sureness that she’d broken all the rules meant to keep her safe, breaking the final barrier felt too taboo, despite the way her stomach was eating itself.

In the morning she’d head out of the ring and into the woods to find something to eat, maybe she’d bring Sven with her. If she was incapable of finding anything else edible, there were bound to be wild apples somewhere and while it wasn’t quite the filling meal she needed, it was something.

Her father had, despite their relative wealth, often foraged for foods in the wood. He said that the foods of the forest reminded him of his homeland, and Anna wished, as yet another addition to her list of impossible wishes, that she’d gone with him before his death to learn more about what bounty the forest could provide. He’d told her some of the faerie stories of dark forces in the wood and of the tricks one could use to keep themselves safe, though the Irish faerie stories had come from her mother.

“Jeg savner deg pappa. Jeg savner deg mor,” she whispered into the darkness of the loft. None of this would have happened to her if her parents hadn’t died, if Elsa hadn’t pulled away, if she had never met Hans, if she had never met Kristoff.

She hated to admit to herself that she couldn’t entirely regret the last occurrence.

There was something in him that spoke to her, something beyond the strange attraction she felt. It was something deeper, darker, more complicated. Maybe he called to her because he was lonely too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Jeg savner deg pappa. Jeg savner deg mor." is Norwegian for "I miss you dad. I miss you mom."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will eventually be more positive in this fic. How many chapters you ask? I. Have. No. Idea. Whoops.

When he returned the following morning to check on Anna, he’d run a bit late. He didn’t want to admit to himself that it was because he wanted to see her awake instead of asleep. It was weak of him, he knew. She was interesting, and she was beautiful and he knew that he might hurt her, but he also knew that it hurt to think of her but not to see her.

He walked through the front door and shut it with a fair amount of force. He didn’t want to surprise her again, and he could move quite quietly if he wanted to, so he did his best to do just the opposite. He remembered a time, when he was more man than monster, that his walking had been called “clunky” and he did his best to channel it again.

“Anna?” he called, not seeing her downstairs.

He was unwilling to check the loft for her. It was difficult to glance up and see if she was there, but to enter such close quarters to check for her invited the possibility of accidental touching and he didn’t want to risk it. He was trying to keep her safe until the man who had been planning to kill her was dead himself, to accidentally touch and addict her would be the antithesis of his desire.

He thought about the fact that she knew what he’d done. It had been a long time since he’d been around humans, but he imagined that they were supposed to be significantly more terrified by an admission of “I’m slowly killing someone you know by addicting them to me and leaving them to go mad” but he’d never met anyone like Anna before. She was brave, ridiculously so. Even before her interactions with him she’d proven that. She’d found a book that said her fiancé was planning on murdering her for money, and instead of panicking and going to someone in her town for help, she’d stolen the evidence and trekked into the woods to head off and find someone in another town who could protect her and arrest the man.

He thought maybe he shouldn’t have interfered at all. If she had made it she would have been better off. Or maybe not. He knew how often people didn’t believe the truth even when it was right under their noses. That’s why things like him were legends to most instead of the terrifying reality they were. Maybe someone would have seen the book and thought that Anna had been lying. Maybe they would have thought that she was after her fiancé’s money instead of the other way around. Maybe they wouldn’t have followed up on the list of women spanning several states in as many years and they would have called it all an elaborate construction.

He couldn’t see the future. He didn’t know what would have happened to Anna had she run all the way to another town and turned in her evidence. He didn’t know what was going to happen to her now that he had interfered. All he knew was that they were now tied to each other in a way he couldn’t fully disentangle.

“Anna?” he called again when there was no response. Nothing looked as if it had been touched since the night before. She’d cleaned up the water from the floor and dumped the pail outside, but it still sat in the corner of the room. She hadn’t touched anything in the meager kitchen which was concerning to say the least. He ate little, but she needed food and she hadn’t eaten any.

When he looked back towards the door he realized that she wasn’t there. Her slippers were gone, the ones he’d found for her in the weeds by the clearing she’d first seen him in, the ones he’d offered her in peace with the note he’d written for her the morning before.

He saw that his coat was also missing. That brought him both comfort and concern. She might have worn it out to the stable to see Sven, and it would mean if nothing else she was warm. His concern was that, as much as he knew Anna, she was self-reliant and brave. That combination meant that if she wasn’t in the stable with Sven, she could quite possibly be anywhere.

He wasn’t the worst of the fae that existed in the wood.

He dashed back out the door, not even bothering to close it behind him this time as he ran to the stable. He had the distinct impression that Sven was there, but he couldn’t tell if Anna was there. He knew her name, and that meant that if need be he had certain knowledge of her, he could make bargains that required the power of a name, but he couldn’t invoke her, summon her like a spirit, or even know where she was at any given moment.

She could call for him with his true name and he would come to her call, but it was not a two way street. He could only shout her name into the stable, and when he realized she wasn’t there, he could only shout it into the trees.

“Anna!” he shouted, but the most he managed to find was a few birds frightened by the sound of his voice.

He cursed under his breath and prayed, for the first time in what felt like a century, that she was alright.

 **** **🙚⚘🙘**

The forest was dreary and deep around her. Somewhere between wherever it was she found herself and the cabin the light had been all but snuffed out. Her search for apples had come up with relative success. She had managed to find some apples closer to the cabin, and while she could reach a few, even less had been any good, and beyond that she hadn’t wanted to break her neck climbing for more. Heading deeper into the woods to look for more trees with a more accessible crop had seemed like the ideal choice at the time, but now she was less than sure.

Everything was starting to look the same and she suspected that she had been walking in circles for quite some time. If she could see the sky through the tree tops it might have helped, she could have walked towards the sun or picked some kind of marker on the horizon to help ensure that even though she might not know where she was going, she’d be not walking in circles.

She leaned against a tree and bit into her remaining apple. It was sweet and crisp and red and at least she had that going for her. Another addition to the long list of things she wished she had was in order of least to most impossible, a better sense of direction, Sven, and having not walked so far into the woods in the first place.

She couldn’t really tell what time of day it was, but she had set off just shortly after waking up, so she had the comfort of knowing that night couldn’t possibly be approaching quite yet. She had time to come up with a plan, to get herself out without having to spend the night in the woods alone defenseless. She also had the comfort of knowing that she really couldn’t have walked all that far. She wasn’t feeling all that much more tired than she had when she left and the apples were at least slightly filling in the sense that having them in her made her stomach feel less like it was eating itself and more like a functional part of her body again.

“Just keep walking Anna,” she said to herself, “you’ll figure something out eventually, you always do.”

When she made it to the core of the apple she set it on the ground and was given something of an idea. If she left something behind every now and then, something that wouldn’t blend in with the environment, like her apple core, she could manage to at least know where she’d been and which direction she hadn’t yet explored.

She added “have had this plan earlier” to the list of impossible things and then set off with the apple core behind her. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is dark fic. If you’ve made it this far you know what I’m talking about. This chapter might give you some answers. It might give you more questions. We’ll see. Thanks for all the positivity so far! I’m having fun writing this as a little bit of a NaNoWriMo project, so hopefully I’ll finish it before the film comes out! We’ll see!   
> *Future Emily* She did not.

Kristoff’s heart raced in a way it hadn’t in years. He was frantic. She could be dead. She could be lost. He might never see her again.

Just because he didn’t want to addict her didn’t mean he didn’t want to stop seeing her, he just wanted to see her of her own free will, and he certainly didn’t want to never see her again because she’d wandered into the wrong faery’s circle. He’d bargain for her if that happened. He’d lived in the forest his whole life, he had connections, he knew things, but that only mattered if she’d been found by fae who believed in bargaining and not simply murder on sight. God forbid she find another gancanagh.

His kind, solitary and rare as they were, tending to not mind “sharing” their prizes, but he didn’t want that. He didn’t want Anna to be taken against her will, for someone to torture her before killing her or letting her kill herself. The idea drove him mad.

He was almost certain he was the only gancanagh left in the woods, but if he was wrong, he was terrified at the possibility. The forest was full of other solitaries though and they didn’t often take kindly to strangers, and that much more real possibility gave him little comfort. There were a few fae he wouldn’t be worried about finding her, the glastigs in the woods were mostly benign, especially to young women. He may very well find Anna striking up a conversation with one of the goat women, and while it seemed like it would be in character for Anna, his fears outweighed his hopes.

He was distracted from his thoughts by a small strip of white cloth tied to the branch of a nearby tree. He was in the heart of the woods now, not too far from his cabin, where many of the solitaries lived. None of them, however, wore white cotton dresses like the one he knew Anna was wearing. None of them needed to mark where they’d been in the woods because they knew it like the back of their hands.

He opened his mouth to call her name again, but thought better of it now that he was outside the protection of his own space. Calling her name here would give it to others who might use it against her. He feared the possibility of what may have happened if he’d called out her name and it had been heard by a Gan Ceann. One only need know the name of its victim and call it out in their earshot to kill them where they stood.

“Kjekk,” he called, “Følg stemmen min Kjekk.”

There was no answer, but he was undeterred. He would find her come hell or high water. He gave very serious thought to touching her when he found her, binding her to him. He didn’t want her addicted, but he didn’t want her to run off into the woods and be lost to him forever either. It was a dark thought, the idea of binding her to him, the idea of what that allowed him to do, in fact what that meant he needed to do to her to keep her well.

It had been a very long time since he knew the touch of a woman. He’d been young, and he’d not cared about what he’d done. He’d followed his nature because that was what was expected of his kind. Other gancanagh had _shared_ with him. That memory was what disgusted him most. That was what he feared most for Anna, that was why he needed to find her before anyone else, except of course maybe a glastig. He sincerely thought that Anna might enjoy a conversation with one of their kind, and he knew that they liked to talk to maidens in return. It was one of a few best-case scenarios he was trying to focus on as he called out the name she’d given herself again and again in the wood, looking for and finding more bits of fabric as he went.

 **** **🙚⚘🙘**

Her skirt was going to be irreparable. The white fabric had already been dirtied by days of wear in the woods, but the tearing of its edge to create a trail certainly wasn’t helping matters. She’d already decided, jokingly of course, that showing up at the cabin naked save her underthings and Kristoff’s coat was much better than not showing up at all.

The fabric scraps were helpful enough in keeping her from walking the same way twice but were no help in ensuring that she wasn’t trekking deeper and deeper into the woods. She decided to take a moment’s break to see if she could perhaps think of another solution to better her odds and decided to braid her hair as she thought. Her hair had been messy and down since her escape from the village, and while it was the least of her concerns at the moment, the act of combing her fingers through her hair and detangling her snarls was one that relaxed her and kept her levelheaded.

She still couldn’t see the sky well enough to use it as any marker of progress, nor could she see anything distinct enough to serve as a landmark from which she might recall her initial passage into the dark wood.

Her fingers worked through her hair skillfully and she managed to put it into some semblance of twin braids as she sat and thought about her situation. Perhaps they were more like cousins than twins, both uniquely messy and tied off with additional bits of ripped skirt, but the small act of straightening herself was a comfort, even if it didn’t bring her any new solutions.

“Kjekk! Følg stemmen min Kjekk.”

She pushed off the tree trunk she had been leaning against and jumped to her feet. Kjekk. He was calling her Kjekk. Only he could know that she had wanted him to call her that. Only he could know that she’d managed to lose herself in the woods.

She was exhausted and a bit embarrassed, but still she called out in return, “Jeg er her min Gancanagh!”

She would not shout his name. She might however whisper it to him with some words of appreciation when he found her. She imagined that he was either going to lecture her about the meaning of the word “stay” or simply kill her on the spot. Neither seemed particularly enjoyable, but she was happy to hear his voice.

 **** **🙚⚘🙘**

He heard it and his blood ran cold. It was his own voice, but he hadn’t spoken. He’d said the same thing, but a few minutes before in a different area of the wood. Someone had heard him and it hadn’t been Anna.

“Jeg er her min Gancanagh!”

That was what made his blood run cold. That was Anna’s voice. She was answering his call, but she wasn’t answering him. She was answering something else. She was calling out and leading something in, and while calling for him was foolish enough, plenty dangerous in the grand scheme of things, whatever she was answering clearing likely had intentions worse than his own.

He thought for a moment about what he could do. He could call out her name, her real name, but that would give it to the other creature as well. He knew most of what was in the wood with him, some creatures of the Irish tradition, some of the Norwegian, and almost all able to mimic a voice. He could even mimic if he really cared to, but in this situation it wouldn’t help.

His only hope was to warn her, and then find her first.

“That wasn’t me Kjekk,” he shouted.

He was answered by a cry that he knew was hers. He hadn’t been fast enough.

He ran in the direction of her voice and nearly crashed into her as she emerged from the trees, looking more terrified than he’d yet seen her.

Behind her strolling almost leisurely was a troll, in fact a very familiar troll.

“Hvorfor kaller du henne kjekk? Hun er vakker,” the creature was smiling and was asking him a question that was so deeply familial, Kristoff could only chuckle in response. He should say that he called her handsome because that’s what she’d wanted to be called, and that yes, she was beautiful, but he needed to catch his breath before he could do any such thing.

He could hug Anna in the moment. He could hug the troll walking towards him. He could die happy on the spot because things could have been so much worse, but he didn’t. He placed a hand he hoped was comforting on the small of Anna’s back, a place well covered by her dress and his coat.

He watched as recognition filled Anna’s eyes, “Du snakker norsk?”

The creature nodded, “Vel, jeg er fra Norge. Er du ikke?”

He watched Anna work through translating in her head and she looked up at him with a mixture of relief and puzzlement.

“I… can’t find the words I want… Nei min far var det?”

Kristoff nodded. Her father was from Norway evidently. It didn’t explain so much how she knew things about the laws of the fae hailing from Ireland, but that was a question for another day. A question he was sure she’d find created questions of her own for him. He couldn’t very well ask her why she knew both if he couldn’t ask her the same.

“ Det gjør deg fremdeles til en av oss. Er det derfor du ikke har…?” The troll confirmed that her ancestry was good enough for him, but Kristoff shot the stone creature a look before he finished his question. He didn’t feel like discussing why he hadn’t addicted Anna with the creature that had been, for all intents and purposes, his father.

He was grateful, however for his interference. Having any of the trolls find Anna before something else could, was a blessing he hadn’t even dreamed of. Even if they didn’t know what his relationship was to her, they would surely recognize his coat on her shoulders. They weren’t hostile creatures to begin with, but knowing that she was with him had been enough.

“I’m sorry I screamed,” Anna said. He saw her trying to translate as her brow furrowed. It was harder for her than it was for him. It was her second language clearly.

“It’s okay,” he said, still touching her gently, “he understands English.”

The troll bobbed his large head pleasantly.

“I do! It’s no trouble, you didn’t expect to see me. I’m sorry I frightened you!”

She smiled shyly and Kristoff wished beyond all things that he could press a kiss to her cheek. She’d scared him terribly, and despite the fact that she was safe now, he could still feel her trembling under his hand. To give her some comfort, more than he could give her through layers upon layers of fabric, was something he longed for.

The troll approached her once again, and Anna, making Kristoff love her even more, crouched down to his height to speak with him.

The creature stretched his hand out to her and Anna placed her small palm in it. Delicately, with the patience and gentleness Kristoff remembered him having when he was young, the troll covered her hand with his and gave her a meaningful look.

“My boy there… he’s a bit of a fixer upper, but give him time?”

She looked confused and Kristoff felt himself flush. This was not how he’d expected this to end, but it was also much better than almost any other alternative, so he chose to simply sigh and let it happen.

Anna, still looking a bit confused, nodded, and leaning forward pressed a small kiss to the troll’s cheek. “Thank you for helping me.”

The old troll chuckled, “Åh! Jeg liker henne!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Følg stemmen min"- Follow my voice  
> Glastigs or glaistig are satyr like creatures of Scottish folklore who protect women and children, particularly maids & milkmaids.   
> Gan Ceann are headless horsemen like creatures of Irish folklore who can kill with only their voices.  
> "Jeg er her min Gancanagh"- I'm here my gancanagh  
> “Hvorfor kaller du henne kjekk? Hun er vakker.”- Why do you call her handsome? She's beautiful.  
> “Du snakker norsk?”- You speak Norwegian?  
> "Vel, jeg er fra Norge. Er du ikke?”- Well I'm from Norway. Aren't you?  
> "Nei min far var det?"- No, my father was [from Norway].  
> “ Det gjør deg fremdeles til en av oss. Er det derfor du ikke har…?”- It still makes you one of us [Norwegian]. Is that why you haven't [addicted her]?   
> "Åh! Jeg liker henne"- Oh! I like her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is dark fic. If you’ve made it this far you know what I’m talking about. Are you ready to feel things????? I wasn’t. Are you supposed to be able to hurt yourself with your own fic? Yikes.

The trip back to the cabin passed in silence. He had something so say and Anna knew it. She had questions that were burning in her brain, but she knew that it wasn’t the time or place. She tried to busy her mind by focusing on the leaves falling off the trees. She loved autumn, she always had. The changing of the seasons, the way the colors of the world around her warmed like a candle just before being blown out soothed her in a way she couldn’t put into words. Winter was not even close to her favorite time of year, but she loved the period before it started, even if it meant that the snow and ice were impending.

He hadn’t touched her again.

Though the leaves were nice enough to watch, they weren’t really taking her mind of the situation they were in. She didn’t know what to do about the uncomfortable silence. She barely knew how to act around people when she was uncomfortable, let alone Kristoff. She couldn’t stop thinking about how he hadn’t touched her since they’d left the troll behind. His touch had been strangely comforting, even through the layers of fabric that kept him from addicting her. She craved it again, not because his faerie magic dictated it, but because she wanted the intimacy of it. It had been so long since she’d been touched with any tenderness. With Hans it had been a facsimile of gentleness, a soulless copy of what it was meant to be. It was strange to feel it in such a raw and right form with someone, with something, that was said to be literally soulless.

“I…” she began, but didn’t know how to finish. What could she say? That she was sorry? She hadn’t meant to get herself lost, and she wasn’t sorry that she’d gone out. Until she’d managed to get herself lost she’d been enjoying the walk.

She certainly couldn’t say what she really wanted to say, “I’m glad you found me.” He might ask for a reward for his diligence and while it seemed unlikely given what she knew of him, she would happily give it to him.

She wanted to give herself to a gancanagh. She’d kissed a troll.

She was losing her mind.

He shook his head and stopped walking, “Don’t.”

She looked at him but he wouldn’t look at her. He had his head turned away from her.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t…” he sighed and looked back at her. When she saw his expression, her heart fell. He looked upset. There was some anger in his expression, but it held no real fire, and truly what was worse was that primary emotion printed on his face was sadness.

“Don’t tell me whatever it is you think I need to hear right now, because if you do I’m going to ask for something I shouldn’t and I can’t do that Anna.”

“Can’t or won’t?” she asked in return. Clarification was important, especially in a moment like this where all she wanted to do was reach out and touch him, to wipe the sorrow from his brow with a brush of her hands.

It was unfair how handsome he was even when he was upset. It was unfair how he’d kill her for giving him what he needed. It was unfair that she’d been almost killed by her fiancé, and it was unfair that she had to meet Kristoff in the first place to want what she couldn’t let herself have.

A strange look crossed his face, one she couldn’t place, but she couldn’t think on it for as long as she needed to in order to make sense of it because he’d turned from her again and walked ahead of her.

She wasn’t going to get an answer, which meant she wouldn’t like what he would have said.

She swallowed. Her throat felt like it was made of ash.

 **** **🙚⚘🙘**

“Why did you go out there?” he asked, his head was swimming with conflicting wants and needs. He needed to know why she’d left the cabin. He wanted to hold her. He needed not to hold her because it would be too much, it wouldn’t be safe. He wanted to ask her if she knew how much danger she’d been in. He needed her to stay.

“I was looking for apples,” she said, her voice sounding a bit sheepish, like she was embarrassed by it. Or maybe he was frightening her. He wasn’t really sure. He knew that he could be intimidating, he wasn’t a small man, he had a bit of an imposing figure, not as slim and handsome as most of his kind, but still he was a killer, and that was surely more than enough to know that he could scare her. He didn’t want to scare her. He wanted her to feel safe. He wanted to make her safe.

Things would have been so much easier if he’d never appeared to her.

“I could have…”

“No.”

He looked at her and there was a sort of determined look on her face that he hadn’t expected. She wasn’t afraid of him. Maybe she was a little nervous still, but she had no qualms with interrupting him.

It didn’t make sense to him. Surely she knew the woods were dangerous, even when she’d been running in the first place when she’d crossed his path she’d known and it wasn’t as if she wasn’t still on edge with him, so he had no idea what would drive her into the woods after apples of all things.

“No?”

“No,” she repeated, she was frowning and despite the fact that she looked a mess in her dress with the torn hem and her untidy braids, she thought that she might look more formidable than he did. “I’m not going to eat…”

The rest was obvious to him. It hurt. It shouldn’t hurt him of course, it was smart of her. He was fae, she was human, and even if they’d managed to bungle every other rule, holding fast to such an ancient law was smart. Yet he still felt like she’d slapped him across the face.

“You still don’t trust me after all of this?”

He knew he should lower his voice. He was upset but not angry with her. He was just scared for her, he was worried that she hadn’t eaten since she’d come to him, and he wished, not for the first time, that he wasn’t what he was. This, however, was the first time he’d wished he wasn’t gancanagh so that he could care for someone without so many complications.

Anna was special in that way.

She blanched. He hated that. He hated that he’d stolen all her fire with his words.

She stared at him for a moment but said nothing. The air hung heavy between them and he thought of all the things he could do to fix things, all the things he could do to make things worse.

“I don’t trust fae.”

It was smart, but it still hurt.

He stepped towards her again, and she didn’t step away. He held his hand out, like he was going to touch her. He wanted so badly to touch her.

She didn’t flinch, she didn’t move. He was given the distinct impression that she might even be holding her breath. Her reactions were different to the last time he’d done this. Her eyes were on his, not on his hand as if she wasn’t worried at all as to where it would fall.

“I’m not asking you to trust fae Anna,” he said, his voice a whisper compared to what it had been a moment before. He hoped that she could hear the pleading in his voice. He needed her to understand she was safe with him, or at least as safe as he could make her.

His hand went to her wrist, again, a place just barely covered by fabric. He was tempting fate, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted so badly to touch her, to make her his. He was glad that giving her his word had bound him in a way, to ensure that until she asked him to touch her skin to skin, he would not.

She leaned into him. There was something in her eyes that was asking him to move closer, and so he did. They were mere inches apart. He could feel her breath as she exhaled, he wanted desperately to brush away the stray hairs in her face.

“I’m not asking you to trust anyone or anything else. I’m asking you to trust me.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s some softness because there’s some more hurt coming soon. I have no idea how many more updates I’ll get out before I take another multi-month hiatus. Most of you know how I am at this point, but I can at least promise one chapter after this one!

Trust, five letters as it had, may as well be a four letter word for Anna. It should have been an insult for him to ask her.

He’d been the one to call her too trusting, and now he was asking her to trust him.

She’d trusted her parents when they’d said they’d come home.

She’d trusted Elsa when she said that she was moving for Anna’s good and not her own.

She’d trusted Hans when he’d said… anything really.

Now, more than anything, she wanted to trust Kristoff.

“Show me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she stared up into his dark eyes.

They were so close she could feel his breath. She could see the tension in his jaw, and her fingers twitched as he held her wrist for want of touching him. She could imagine it, how it would feel to run the pads of her fingers down the rough stubble on his cheeks, how he would relax under her touch.

“Show me why I should trust you.”

She felt his sigh more than she heard it, the hot puff of air that sent the messy tendrils of her hair aflutter, brushing gently against her neck. She’d like to know what it would feel like to have his lips there. A foolish dream that she’d nearly be willing to give her life for.

His hand loosened on her cuff, shifting up her forearm slightly.

“I’ve made you more promises than I’ve made to anyone in all my life Anna. I can’t lie to you, you know that. I’ve done my best to avoid half truths or difficult bargains with you since I learned your name. I gave you my true name. What else could I do?”

“Kristoff,” she said, knowing that she was testing him by saying the name, feeling bolder than her situation allowed her to be safely, “I said show me.”

Her hand went to her sleeve, not far below where his hand was resting on her arm. He didn’t shift, and so she peeled back the sleeve closer to his hand, daring him to touch when he’d said he wouldn’t. She wasn’t consenting explicitly, but their agreement, the bond that held him, hadn’t forbade him from taking an action as an offer. She didn’t know what she’d do if he took his chance and tried to touch her. She’d likely be unable to tug her sleeve down in time.

She knew she was playing a dangerous game.

His hand shifted higher on her arm, avoiding the exposed skin. She pulled he fabric up again, and his hand moved away with it. He didn’t stop touching her, his touch firm but not rough on her as they continued their dance, shifting touches and fabric until his hand rested at the very top of her arm, spanning the thin band of fabric between where her sleeve was rolled and the neckline of her gown.

“Is this proof?”

Anna bit her lip. He’d proven a willingness to keep his promise in the spirit in which it was given and to the letter of the law between them. He hadn’t crossed a line, even when it was possible for him to do so.

“What would you do if I asked you to touch me? What would you do if I asked right now?”

They hadn’t moved apart at all in the time that had passed, and she could feel the tension in his body as she asked. He was like a tightly coiled spring, ready to burst.

He had to tell her the truth.

“I would put my hands on your waist.”

She wasn’t sure of what to make of the answer. Her waist was covered fully by the fabric of her dress. She thought she might ask him to do it, but then faltered. By asking him what he would do “right now” meant that now that the moment had passed and the question had been answered, he could act differently. It wouldn’t be a breach of the agreement.

He’d asked her to trust him.

And though she knew it made her a fool, she did.

“Touch me Kristoff.”

 **** **🙚⚘🙘**

It was all he could do to keep his hands from trembling when she said the words. He knew she didn’t want him to addict her, but also knowing that he could if he wanted to, was enough to make him think about giving in.

She was staring him in the eye, daring him, he thought. She could be impertinent at times, taking advantage of the good nature he’d shown her. She must know, as he did, that in saying such a thing, in the wording of her question and her command using his name, he was forced to action. She’d left the action’s course up to his decision. She was foolhardy to do it, but he understood why she had. Trust was to be earned, and if he was going to be trusted, it was going to be through a trial of fire.

He did shudder at the thought that she was reckless enough to offer a trial that could end so disastrously for her, for them both, but if it weren’t so dangerous, it wouldn’t be a true test. It would be easier to pass up on the possibility of touching her if his self-control wasn’t being gnawed at on all edges.

He could feel the heat of her skin, not only from the hand on her clothed shoulder, but also radiating from her due to their proximity. It would be so simple, to reach out and touch her hand, to lean forward and kiss her, to bind her to him until her inevitable death.

The thought turned his stomach as much as it made his baser instincts rise.

He reached out his hand and slowly, carefully, placed one hand on her waist, using the other to slide the fabric of her sleeve back down over her arm before settling it too on her waist. It was the closest he could get to an embrace without worrying about an accidental brush of skin.

“I’m not going to intentionally addict you Anna,” he swore, “Not unless you ask me in those terms. I can’t promise an accident won’t happen, but I can promise you I’m being my most cautious.”

He felt her relax, and he was surprised when she raised her hands up to rest on his shoulders, almost as if they were about to dance. He’d give anything for music, to sway with her in his arms, to revel in the closeness a bit longer.

He knew that he was falling for her, not in the easy fly by night way his kind normally fell for mortal women, but in a way that cut him much deeper. She was beautiful, smart, and so brave that it terrified him. He could imagine himself, another version of himself, making a life with her where he knew that he could only make death.

“I trust you Kristoff.”

The admission was soft, and when he gently slipped a hand across her back, she leaned into it, sighing. That she found comfort in his touch made his heart ache with the need to show her more affection.

She trusted him.

If only he could trust himself so easily.

 **** **🙚⚘🙘**

He watched her eating. It should have made her uncomfortable, but the pleased and relieved look on his face as she ate the food he offered made her feel at ease. She would be lying if she said that his presence alone didn’t do the same. She’d already been more than inclined to let her guard down around him, and his most recent display of control over his nature allowed her to completely relax in his company.

She bit into a particularly delicious bit of bread and cheese he’d managed to procure for her, and hummed her satisfaction.

That he glanced away then wasn’t lost on her. She still wasn’t certain as to whether or not he could blush, but she wasn’t so innocent to think that she had no effect on him at all. Or at least some part of her hoped that she was affecting him, because he certainly was her.

She couldn’t quite determine what bits of what she liked about him were fae and which were just him, but at any rate she was enjoying trying to figure it out. His looks, she thought, must be fae. No man she’d ever met was so well suited to large features as he was. He was tall and broad and he had a large nose that would be unattractive on a lesser man, but in his overall appearance everything was carried off rather well.

His personality, she thought, was not magically altered or affected in any way. He was sincere and prudent, and at times grumpy, and she thought that there was no magic in the charm it had over her. She simply liked him for who he was. No one was ever so frank and open with her.

“Kristoff?” she asked, swallowing the last of her meal, still not entirely certain she hadn’t just eaten faerie food for how good it had all tasted.

“Yes?” he answered, looking back in her direction but looking a little worse for wear.

“Did you want to touch me?”

He shot her a confused look in return, as if he wasn’t sure of what she was asking. It was a fair reaction, particularly because she realized she was asking two separate questions.

“Well, I more or less forced you to touch me. That was unfair of me, to use your name, to back you into a corner like that. I should have asked if you wanted to touch me.”

He shook his head.

“Anna… don’t worry about that. I wanted to touch you. I… always want to touch you.”

She knew that he must mean it. She would think that any other man saying they always wanted to touch her would have been a stretch, but he couldn’t say it, or at least he couldn’t use the word “always” if he didn’t mean it.

It made her realize that she needed to ask the second question as well, much as she didn’t want to upset him with it if she could avoid it.

“Do you always want to touch me… you know… not on my clothes.”

He huffed, “Are you asking if I always want to touch you in an addictive way? Be clear Anna.”

She smiled, he was grumping about it, but not in a way that seemed insulted or angry, just in a way that showed his annoyance at her lack of proper asking. He always seemed most bothered when she wasn’t taking all the steps she could to protect herself from him.

“Yes. I want to know if you always want to touch me in an addictive way.”

“Yes.”

The answer was quick, and she nearly choked on the water she sipped to wash down the end of her meal. She had maybe expected the answer, but it being so direct with no wiggle room, with no clever wording was surprising.

There was a glint in his eye as she met it, a reminder that as much as she enjoyed his company, and as much as she was ready to trust him, there was still something wild in him, something ravenous. He was fae, he was wild, and he could kill her.

Her heart raced, and she couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t out of fear.

 **** **🙚⚘🙘**

He didn’t need sleep, but his day with Anna had left him feeling drained in a way he hadn’t been in many years. It was the want, he knew that.

She was fast asleep in the loft, and he allowed himself to climb up the ladder and check on her in the night. A small reward for his restraint, something to tide him over before he left as he intended to in the morning.

She slept with a smile on her lips, good dreams he thought. Her hair was loose, a wavy mess on the pillow behind her from the braids she’d had it in. He carefully reached out to some messy strands closest to him and smoothed them on the pillow. It was the most he was willing to touch her, worried both about slipping up and about her waking.

He wanted nothing more than to press a kiss to her forehead as she slept, to let out some of the need in his chest. She was going to be the death of him, and yet he was so grateful for every moment she was with him.

“Sleep well Anna,” he said quietly before climbing back down and out the front door of the cabin.

The cold night air greeted him, and he lit his pipe, thinking about how it had felt to hold onto her, if only for a short while.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter. Heed the tags. This one gets a little more heavy handed with the suicide by sex talk, but I promise there's no graphic violence or death in this chapter. And there isn't going to be. For Anna at least. No promises Hans (but it won't be graphic either).   
> Shit is going to hit the fan in this chapter. Sorry <3

Hans had barricaded himself in the Arendelle Family House. Some in town were saying he’d gone mad with grief. No one had seen Anna in a few days, and many thought that maybe she’d gone off into the woods and wound up dead. Others thought more charitably that she’d left the man to go with her sister to the city. In either respect, no one was going near the house. There were sounds of screaming inside, the ravings of a mad man.

Folks were keeping their kids indoors. Rumor had it that someone had sent for a wagon from the asylum to come and take him away, but that had to come from the city. It would undoubtedly take a couple days, and in the meantime the town was gripped with terror. No one knew what the man might be capable of.

Kristoff grinned to himself in the shadows. He knew that he shouldn’t be taking so much pleasure in the fact that by the time a wagon from the asylum arrived, Hans would be dead. Yet, knowing this, he did take pleasure in it. He thought that even if he wasn’t the creature he’d become, he’d still enjoy the knowledge. Killing a killer wasn’t really making a right of a wrong, but it was keeping Hans from murdering more women.

Most importantly it was keeping Anna safe.

He lit his pipe and leaned against a tree in the wooded shadows behind the house. The smoke swirled around him as he puffed on it, sweet on his tongue and in the air. It was a comfort and ritual that calmed his nerves.

He wasn’t nervous about-facing Hans of course as there was nothing that he could do to him that Kristoff couldn’t stop. The perks of having someone addicted was that they couldn’t strike against you, or while they could try, it wouldn’t really do them any good, halting just before landing a punch, falling over themselves making an attempt at what old magic wouldn’t allow them. He was safe from Hans, but still nervous, mostly about traipsing through Anna’s home.

After a short time he extinguished the pipe and shoved it back into the pocket from whence he’d drawn it out. Because there really never was any real fire involved, just the illusion of it, he didn’t need to worry about burning himself. Recalling life before he’d become a monster was difficult, but he always retained the feeling that as a man, he would’ve liked the trick as much as he did now. No holes in your jacket, no need to carry matches, and no need to ever buy or grow your own tobacco. If there was a silver lining to his curse that was it.

The air around him was still. The screaming and raving had ended, but he knew that the man was skill alive. He could sense it. He’d know when he was dead. Or at least he thought he would. He was a bit worse than rusty.

It hadn’t been quiet for very long, but he’d take it as a good sign on any level. Perhaps the man had exhausted himself, or gone to the basement where his screams couldn’t be heard. Kristoff would apologize to Anna later for the fact that the man was tearing her home apart instead of his own, but he had a feeling that she wouldn’t be too upset. She wasn’t the sort of person, from what he could gather, who had much of an interest in things. However, he could tell from the grandeur of her home compared to the others in the village that she’d been raised with plenty of them.

She hadn’t even seemed too worried about her ruined dress, or what was less a dress and more a dressing gown.

The ruined gown was why he’d come to her home. He hadn’t expected for Hans to be there, he’d just come to get Anna some clothes.

She hadn’t asked. He just thought that after she’d agreed to trust him he should give her some kind of good faith gesture in appreciation. He wasn’t sure that he’d trust himself if he were her, so procuring some things to bring her some greater comfort seemed prudent. He also couldn’t deny that his interest in her, although he knew nothing could come of it, stretched to wanting to know where she’d come from before she’d made the mistake of stumbling across him in the wood.

He walked through the back door, not particularly caring if he ran into the mad man or not.

It had been a long time since he’d been in a home other than the cabin he kept, but when the back door opened up into the kitchen, he knew to keep walking into the space. Past the stove and pantry was a dining area with finely carved chairs and a table longer than he thought Anna might ever need herself. He let his hand rest upon the top of one, trying to imagine her sitting in it, carefree, eating her dinner in quiet solitude. Maybe, he imagined, she played host to others at times. She seemed the generous sort.

Adjoined to the dining room, through an entry way painted white with rosemaling that felt familiar to him, was a common area and no sign of Hans. He found instead, through the doorway of that room, an open front hall with a staircase leading up to where he assumed her bedroom would be.

He didn’t pass the mad man in the upstairs hall where he found bedrooms and a study, all with the doors open. There were broken bits of furniture here and there, papers strewn about and clothes and other personal effects intermingled. He wasn’t sure of what was Annas and what belonged to the rest of her family, but when he saw a hairbrush, he picked it up and stuffed it into the satchel he’d brought with him. He smiled to himself thinking about Anna’s messy braids and the mussed waves they’d revealed.

He’d like to brush them out for her. He could imagine her back resting against his chest lightly as he brushed and fussed with her hair, wrapping it around his fingers, humming a tune in her ear. He liked to work with his hands, something he thought may be a leftover from his life before, and to replait her hair seemed a simple task. It was an impossible dream, too much contact, just one slip would damn them both, and yet he thought of it fondly.

_In another life, perhaps._

He walked from room to room, without any sign of the man he’d cursed. He didn’t know what to make of it. Everyone he’d heard talking had said that he was there. He’d heard him screaming and crashing just shortly before entering.

Perhaps, he thought, he was in a room he hadn’t found yet. Maybe he’d gone to the basement or entered a room after he’d left it. It didn’t really matter. He couldn’t hurt him.

When he passed by one of the bedrooms, he stopped. It was Anna’s room. He wasn’t sure why he was certain of this, but he was.

It was the biggest mess of all. It had thoroughly tossed, and there were clothes and bits of this and that scattered about the floor. A mirror had been smashed, and Kristoff did his best to shove the bits of glass into a small pile with his foot on the wooden floor as he walked through the space. There was a rosemalled armoire with its doors wide open where the mirror glass was concentrated. There was a frame within still hanging on to a few pieces of jagged glass. He saw himself in the fragments, frowning. He hadn’t looked at himself in anything but water in many years, and he found himself unchanged as he’d ever been. He wasn’t wearing his jacket. That and a bit of mussing to his hair was all that differentiated him from any other day. He combed his fingers through his hair and hoped that Anna wouldn’t be too upset about what had happened to her mirror. It looked as though it might have been an heirloom.

A few items of clothing were still within the cabinet, and while it felt odd to snoop through her things, he searched for anything that seemed sufficiently warm for the cool autumn weather in the area of the mountains she currently resided in. He wouldn’t make her stay inside alone. That would be torture for Anna, that much he could tell simply from the spirit she had about her. She hadn’t been built to be cooped up, she was animated and adventurous and full of life, so he chose clothes he thought might be warm enough for her to walk about in.

He knew extremely little about women’s clothing, more proof that he was terrible at being a gancanagh. The last time he’d… partaken… fashions had been different. He tried not to think about it too terribly much as he lifted up some garments from the floor. Still in the armoire there was a heavy cotton skirt, and one sprawled nearby on the floor that seemed less full, but that was made of wool. He crammed them into the bag and added a few blouses. He thought maybe she’d laugh at the assortment he brought to her, as he imagined that none of the items matched.

He found that the drawers beneath the main portion of the cabinet, had been mostly untouched and upon the revelation that they contained underthings, he flushed and nevertheless added them to the bag with the rest.

He took a look around the room and imagined what Anna had been like there. A writing desk had been razed, ink wells broken, and papers strewn about, but he found a book covered in dried ink and opened it to find the mess contained to the cover and a bit to the page edges. Written in neat hand upon the pages were dates and short entries of daily events. He wanted to read it but thought better of it and tucked it into the bag. She deserved her privacy, and he supposed she’d like to have the book with her if she’d spent so much time writing in it.

Her supplies for writing were destroyed, littering the floor around him. He thought maybe he’d find some way to procure more for her, but shook his head at the thought. She’d return soon enough and perhaps it would be better for her to not chronicle her time with him. Better that she think of it like a and dream after she returned.

Surveying the room again and finding nothing that he thought she’d require, and nothing that jumped out to him as particularly important, he lingered a short while longer and exited. There was no evidence that Hans had returned to the upper floor. Kristoff heard nothing, saw no change in the ruined environment, and could not imagine where the man might have gone. Perhaps, he thought, he’d already expired without his notice. He’d never intentionally done something like this before, so he wasn’t exactly certain about how long someone could last away from the gancanagh that touched them. He wasn’t certain about much of his own nature, and it was no accident on his part.

He’d never wanted to be gancanagh.

He huffed and strapped the satchel closed, deciding it best to at least locate a body if there was one to be found. Maybe, he thought, his sense of life and death in those afflicted by his curse wasn’t as acute as he’d always believed. If there was a body, he’d tip off someone in the village to take care of it.

Another of the “benefits” of being a gancanagh was that so long as no one knew his name, so long that they weren’t prepared for him, they couldn’t do anything to hurt him. Another was that he was quite persuasive, so it would be no trouble to talk someone into investigating the home. Perhaps, he thought, he might even be able to plant the evidence of his plan to kill Anna to ensure that when she returned to the village, she’d have little to explain. He didn’t want her to have to worry about such things.

He didn’t want her to have to worry about anything for as long as she lived.

_Which is why she needs to get away from me as quickly as possible._

Quickly walking through each room he found no trace of the man, and after delving through the downstairs rooms and basement, he found no evidence that Hans was still in the building, dead or alive.

He thought, walking through the detritus that had once been Anna’s life, that he should have just told the man to walk off a cliff or something, take care of business and save himself the annoyance of needing to locate him. But no, he’d seen the names in the book Anna brought him, the women who he’d killed for money. He needed him to suffer for that.

He imagined there were many that would hold the same opinion of him.

He sometimes, in his darkest moments, thought that maybe he should hold himself to the same standard.

He could still remember the way they looked, all the women he’d spent time with before. He hadn’t been the one to ensnare any of them, but it hadn’t meant that what he’d done to them was right. He’d been young, so new to a life that he now couldn’t imagine ever being without, and he’d spent time with his own kind. The trolls had warned him against it, but it had seemed logical, surrounding himself with the only others who could teach him about what he was.

They’d ensnared so many women. And he’d thought it was necessary because he was told that it was. He’d not known about what happened to them at first.

They, the other gancanagh, would bring them out of bars, out of towns, and he’d been foolish about the consequences. He thought they’d come for a night of debauchery in the forest, maybe to stay a week or two, but always to return to their homes after. To be charmed and kissed and then to return to less doting husbands with an excuse and nothing more.

“Their youth feeds us, keeps us well,” they’d said, “they like the interruption, to have someone’s interest, you can give them your affection and they’ll take it insatiably.”

He’d never been with women before, and he never truly was with them either. He’d touch them and hold them and kiss them because they begged for it, and they’d dance so lithely around. It was only much later that he saw what became of the addicted mortals they left behind.

Half mad women burning down their homes while still inside, waifish shapes wandering the woods, empty eyes and gaunt cheeks, so addicted to their “merry band” that they cared neither for food nor water, only for the touch of the fae that addicted them.

He hadn’t addicted them, but he fed into the addiction. He hadn’t known that they weren’t in their right minds, that they couldn’t say no, but he should have. He’d kissed them and danced and had seen right past the spell they were under because he didn’t want to see it. Then when he did see it, he thought he could help. He raged when the others took women when he didn’t himself. He would find the women they left in the woods, try to satiate them while they dwindled away, but he could only prolong the inevitable for so long. They all died eventually, whether from madness or malnourishment or from their bodies giving out from the magic surging and waning in their veins.

He’d left the other gancanagh after a time, unable to stop them, but still human enough to know that he didn’t want to do what they did. He saw so much gancanagh in Hans. He’d taken women and used them up, leaving bodies in his wake. That he could use his curse to return the favor was the best use of it he’d found in a long time.

Finding the man gone, Kristoff did his best to shake off his thoughts. He needed to collect himself because he needed to know where Hans had gone and whether it was safe for Anna to return.

He did his best to pick up what he could on his way out and then slipped out the back door and walked through the woods until he found a path into town. He supposed it would be best to simply ask a townsperson whether or not they’d seen Hans of late, as he’d be happy enough to learn that the man had died in the streets, or had been taken away, or was, at least locked back in his own home.

He needed to know if it was safe for Anna to return.

She needed to go home, because while she wasn’t safe with Hans, she wasn’t safe with him either. Every moment he was with Anna, every moment he wanted to reach out and touch her, reach out and give her the sort of gentle intimacy he saw she craved. It was the sort of affection he’d love to give her if he was anything but what he was because as it stood he knew that he would be the death of her. He couldn’t justify killing her would-be-killer if he turned around and addicted her.

He walked into town as confidently as he could, holding his head high, and generally exuding as much of the attractive air his being would allow. When he chanced upon a young lady, a bit older than Anna, and yet still a maid, she was instantly enraptured. That he felt no need or interest in reaching out to touch her was unsurprising. He’d never had much trouble in fighting his nature before Anna, and now when the only woman he wanted was her, the young lady was no temptation. Still though, the charm was easy enough to turn on despite his general disinterest in her, and people in general.

“Hello Miss! Might I inquire as to where I might find a man by the name of Hans?”

**** **🙚⚘🙘**

The water was cold, and she shivered as she submerged herself in it. What she wouldn’t do for a tub and some warm water, and yet, she was simply happy to wash away some of the dirt and grime from her skin. She supposed that it was a good idea to do so given the time she’d spent in the woods, and with Kristoff off for the day, a dip into the river hadn’t seemed like the worst idea she’d ever had.

Sven was ashore with her clothes and a blanket. The creature brought her infinite comfort despite the fact that she hadn’t wandered far from the cabin. At least she had the comfort of not being lost, and as far as she could tell, she might still be on the land that she presumed to be protected by her gancanagh.

She flushed at the thought and not from the cold. To call him her gancanagh as if anyone could have a gancanagh as their own. It was a foolish thought, she was much more his than he was hers, though she did like the idea of it in either respect. It was proof that she might be going a bit mad.

_Damn yourself Anna._

She splashed cold water on her face and gasped. There was time before winter was to arrive, but she may as well be bathing in ice. She leaned back best she could into the water, soaking her hair and running her fingers through it in an attempt to at least knock away most of the dust and dirt.

She recalled the look in his eye when he’d asked her to trust him the night before, the way they’d been so dark and intently focused on her own. She let her fingers slip to her wrist, where he’d first touched her through the fabric of her shirt cuff. The skin there felt hot as she focused on it, despite the chill of the water. She’d almost shown him then and there how prepared she was to trust him, how willing she was to curl her fingers forward and touch him.

How willing she was to addict herself to him.

Asking him to touch her had been unwise enough.

She was a damn fool. She always had been.

As a child she’d believed in fairy tales, and as she’d aged she’d never let herself grow out of it. That was why she’d accepted Hans’s proposal so easily, because she’d longed for a happily ever after so strongly, she’d been unable to see through the façade it had all been. And now, so acutely aware of the danger she was in, she was still willing to believe in the ending she’d wanted since she was a child.

Of course she knew that getting herself addicted to a gancanagh could allow nothing but a swift death, but it would be one in which she’d feel good the whole time, and she thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

It had been years since she felt wanted, and even if it killed her, she thought that being wanted by Kristoff might be the best way she could go. Particularly because at least it would be her choice to addict herself, and it was a choice with an ending she could choose. It was a way to fade away, and she felt the tears pooling in her eyes as she had to shake herself from the thought. It wasn’t an option.

She focused herself again on washing the dirt from her skin, letting the icy water shake her from her dark fantasies. She didn’t want to die. She wouldn’t leave her sister like that, even if she’d left her almost as surely.

She pulled herself from the water when she began to lose feeling in her toes, the cool air feeling much icier than the water as she removed herself from it and moved to the place she’d left a blanket at Sven’s side.

The deer quickly moved, surprising her as it took off behind her and toward something that surprised and terrified her in equal measure.

A man with torn clothing, mud and sticks in his hair such that it was almost impossible to identify him at first.

Hans.

**** **🙚⚘🙘**

Kristoff, once again, found himself running through the woods, shouting “Kjekk!” at the top of his lungs. He wouldn’t endanger her by calling her true name, even if he was still on the safety of his protected lands. She’d left the cabin again, and while it was in her rights to do so, he was terrified to see her gone. He’d sent himself to the building as soon as the young woman in town had told him that Hans had set off into the woods like a mad beast over an hour before.

Kristoff hadn’t thought that he’d been in her home nearly as long as he had, but he’d evidently entered the back of the house not long after Hans had left through the front. He’d hoped, upon realizing that the man had entered the wood, that he’d gone anywhere but towards the mountains where Anna resided, but he had no faith in his luck. He knew that the most desperate of the addicted were sometimes able to feel their way to the home of the gancanagh that addicted them if they didn’t travel far enough away, but he hadn’t even thought it was a possibility with Hans.

“Kjekk!” he screamed, running through the wood, only to hear a shriek coming from the direction of the river, causing his heart, or what was left of it, to race.

He sprinted in the direction of her voice, hearing with it the sound of laughter that was anything but sane.

He’d done it. He’d managed to undo everything he was hoping to accomplish by taking her to his home and addicting Hans.

He’d found her, and there was nothing he could do about it.

**** **🙚⚘🙘**

Anna watched in terror as Sven ran straight for the madman who she’d once imagined herself marrying. The beast ducked his head down, charging him with his antlers, clearly ready to gore the man to defend Anna.

She screamed out, terrified for everyone involved, herself included. She knew Hans probably deserved to be killed as violently as he’d lived, but in the moment she wanted anything but for Sven to do it. The beast was kind and gentle and deserved better than to have to attack to defend her. She didn’t want anyone to have to defend her. She wanted to go back in time and refuse Hans and to run off to the city with her sister or join a nunnery, or to be in any situation other than the one she’d managed to get herself into.

Frozen on the spot, she stared numbly as the scene played out in front of her. She felt as if ice were flowing through her veins, and then, she warmed, hearing Kristoff’s voice from behind her.

She didn’t decide to run to him so much as she operated on instinct to do so. Being with him meant being safe, it meant that Sven might not need to kill the man that was fully trying to kill her.

His eyes went wide as he broke though the copse of small trees along the bank she was running down, and by the time she thought about what she was doing, it was too late. She threw herself, bare as she was, into him, his forearm grazing her side in the process.

He’d promised her that he wouldn’t touch her, and it was a promise he’d kept.

She’d touched him. She’d damned them both.

**** **🙚⚘🙘**

He felt it instantly. The sensation of her chill, bare skin against his. He’d barely registered the fact that she was naked as he exited the woods and took in what was going on. Sven was charging Hans, Hans had the good sense to run away, returning to the wood from whence he’d come, cursing up a storm and looking every bit like the mad man he was.

“No,” he breathed, “Anna…”

But it was too late, it was already done.

He looked down to see her eyes, her beautiful expressive blue eyes, glazing over with a vacant unknowing that he’d seen too many times before. It was the first step, the beginning, what happened before victims starved or went mad. It was the pretty stage, the bit where they went all soft and pleading and wanting.

He stumbled back, as if he could move away from her and undo what he’d done to her so simply. But there was nothing simple about what was going on, layers upon layers of curses and fae law meant that there was no easy out for either of them.

Sven, in Kristoff’s periphery, had stopped charging, and Hans had managed to take off far enough in the woods quickly enough that he was no longer their problem at the time being.

Anna clung to him, even as he tried to move away from her. She was bare and shaking and holding him around the chest.

She’d been bathing in the river, he realized. None of this was her fault. She hadn’t asked for Hans to interrupt her bath, she’d taken Sven with her, followed his every instruction to not move far from the cabin, and still she’d run into trouble because of him. He should have killed Hans when he had the chance. He should have sent her home.

Her hands were wandering across his back, little icy fingers that he could feel through his shirt. They might as well be stabbing him.

He’d wanted her, but not like this.

Carefully, trying his best not to look down at her, he wrapped his arms around her in return. He knew that she needed this, needed his touch, but it made him want to vomit.

“Come on Anna,” he whispered, pleading gently, “Lets get you covered up. It’s very cold.”

She complied. She had no choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, sorry. I planned this from the start. I'm evil. I'll try to get the next chapter out in a reasonable time frame.   
> Please comment if you have the time. I don't bite and comments get me hyped up to write more <3


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